


Home for Christmas

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas fic, Humor, John and Sherlock haven't met, M/M, sort of misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-07 00:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8776345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: When Mycroft Holmes informs his family he’s bringing along a friend for Christmas, the household is thrown into utter chaos: Mummy Holmes is delighted, of course and Mr. Holmes is just baffled. Sherlock, however, is determined to figure out what is his brother up to. Mycroft doesn’t do friendships, let alone relationships, so who is this mysterious Dr. John H. Watson and what’s his business with his brother?





	1. An unexpected visitor

**Author's Note:**

> So… this idea came to me a week ago or something like that and I wasn’t sure I should write it. The thing is that humor has never been my forte and I really wanted this to be on the humorous side so… well.  
> But I like the idea very much, so I figured I would give it a try. It won’t be long; I think 3 or 4 chapters at most. I’m just no good at one-shots, but I don’t want to start yet another monster of a fic and I really want to be done with it before Christmas so… yeah. I really don’t need any more WIPs, no matter how insistent the plot bunnies might be ;)  
> Anyway, enjoy?

Mummy is on the phone with Mycroft, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Sherlock rolls his eyes, figuring she has managed to bully his brother into coming home for Christmas and he’s not one bit surprised: she sounded horribly convincing this year, going on and on about how she and Dad are getting older and how they never visit and how  _ lonely  _ they are…

If Sherlock could be guilted into visiting, of course his brother agreed too.

The moment she finally hangs up, though, he knows there’s something else going on, judging by Mummy’s delighted  _ squeal. _

Dad comes running, looking worried. Sherlock spares a quick look in their direction and turns his attention back to his phone, not one bit interested on the going ons of his brother’s life. While they both live in London now, they barely see each other and yet, he doesn’t particularly care what the other is doing.

“Did you hear that, Sherlock?!” Mummy questions excitedly, coming out of the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear and making Sherlock more than a tad worried. “Mycroft is bringing someone for Christmas!”

Sherlock blinks once. That- that’s- “What?” he questions dumbly, for it crashes horribly with everything he knows about his brother. His older brother, Mycroft Holmes, the  _ Iceman,  _ the  _ caring is not advantage,  _ that brother is the one bringing someone home to meet their parents?

“Isn’t it great?” Mummy questions undeterred, turning to look at her husband, who is smiling a bit warily. “A  _ doctor, _ ” she adds, evidently delighted by Mycroft’s choice of partner. “ _ An army doctor. _ Isn’t it great?” she repeats, looking at Sherlock earnestly.

He hesitates. Mummy looks entirely too thrilled with the development and regardless of what people might think, he’s not  _ heartless.  _ He loves Mummy very much and he does want her to be happy, but- this is Mycroft they’re talking about. “Did he say this… doctor was his boyfriend?”

“Oh, no,” she says, still smiling brightly. “He said he was a  _ friend,  _ but if he’s bringing him along, he must be someone important to him, huh? Besides, Christmas is for family. You don’t bring random acquaintances to your parents’ house during Christmas.”

She might be somewhat right, but then again- this is Mycroft they’re talking about. “Maybe he’s a co-worker,” he musses out loud. “Or something like that. It’s just- this is Mycroft we’re talking about.” His brother doesn’t do  _ friends,  _ least of all  _ boyfriends _ , so what’s up with this doctor of his?

But Mummy looks so pleased that Sherlock can’t find it within himself to say something, simply letting her carry on making plans for the whole meetup. Dad looks slightly concerned, but just as Sherlock, he loves her too much to burst her happy bubble.

Still, there’s something very weird going on here.

And Sherlock is determined to find out just what.

* * *

 

Dr. John H. Watson.

Sherlock looks at his brother’s  _ friend _ curiously, looking for any clues that might point him in the right direction of what’s Mycroft’s game. The man looks  _ normal  _ enough; there’s nothing terribly interesting about him. Average intelligence, average height, average looks. Just  _ dull. _

And yet-

If he’s indeed  _ dating  _ Mycroft (and Sherlock very much doubts it, but let's pretend for a minute that that’s the case), there must be something more remarkable about him. His army training is evident in the way he holds himself and the way his eyes swept over the room, taking everything in and looking for escape routes if needed. He smiles charmingly at Mummy and Dad, the first looking a little teary. He’s all polite chit chat and polite smiles and it’s just so very frustrating!

And so Sherlock finds himself sputtering all his life story, based on the little clues of his clothes and his stance and his body, hoping to irritate him and get an actual, honest reaction. Mycroft rolls his eyes and Mummy sends a quick glare in his direction, but John Watson merely looks awed and murmurs  _ amazing. _

Sherlock’s heart stops in his chest and he narrows his eyes at the shorter man, who is still smiling at him pleasantly, not one bit put off by his rudeness or his deductions. In fact, he looks… eager to hear him say something else. Sherlock scowls and turns around dramatically, hurrying towards his room, ignoring Mummy’s calls.

He can hear Dad apologising for his behavior, but John simply brushes it off. The introductions continue and he can hear them heading towards the kitchen, where Mummy has cookies and chocolate ready for them.

He lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling and feeling frustrated with himself.

Just who is this John Watson and what’s his deal?

* * *

 

“Is my brother paying you?”

John looks up from his ridiculous detective novel, head tilted to the side curiously. Sherlock finds himself staring a little too intently at his eyes and promptly chides himself for his foolishness. “I’m sorry?” the blond man asks finally, frowning a little.

“Is my brother paying you to pretend to be his friend?” Sherlock asks calmly, observing the other closely, waiting for a reaction that will tell him what’s really going on. “Only it doesn’t make much sense; Mycroft has never cared to lie to our parents about the state of his social life and if he had finally tired of Mummy attempting to set him up, he would have introduced you as his boyfriend. Also, you do know each other well, you take on his unspoken cues quite well, so that makes the whole “paying for your company” more unlikely.”

“Does it?”

Sherlock hums. “One usually hires unknown people for these stunts, no people you’ll actually have to see again once it’s over.”

“Do you now?” John questions lightly, almost teasingly. “Have much experience, do you?”

Sherlock huffs and turns around dramatically once more, stalking out of the room. He can hear the doctor chuckling softly to himself and the sound of him rearranging himself on the sofa, going back to his reading shortly after.

Curiouser and curiouser.

* * *

 

“You’re not actually dating, are you?”

John looks at him curiously, looking oddly calm for a man that has just been woken up in the middle of the night by a man who’s asking weird questions while perched at the edge of the bed, looking for all intents and purposes like an overgrown bat.

Sherlock does know how to cause an impression, after all.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” John replies, seemingly not bothered by the odd conversation. “Did your parents never tell you it isn’t polite to get into people’s rooms without their permission?”

“It’s my house,” Sherlock protests, pouting a bit.

“No, it’s your parents’,” John corrects calmly. “And in any case, I’m a guest. The same rule should apply.”

Sherlock glares, before turning around and stomping out. “Close the door after you!” the doctor calls after him and the younger man clenches his jaw, before slamming the door closed, knowing it’s petty, but not caring one bit.

“Sherlock!” Mummy’s voice comes from her room and he cringes. “What have I told you about slamming the doors?”

From inside the room, Sherlock can hear John chuckling.

* * *

 

“So, what’s the deal between you two? Who is blackmailing who?”

Mycroft sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, looking frustrated. John doesn’t look up from the morning paper, simply arching an eyebrow. “What purpose would that serve?”

Sherlock sulks, dropping himself unceremoniously on the empty chair. “My brother doesn’t do  _ friends.  _ Although I’m still unsure of why would he have someone coming over to meet our parents.”

John hums and Mycroft glares. “Sherlock, drop it,” his brother warns darkly, but as usual, the younger man ignores him.

“So. What does he have over you?” he asks, turning to John once more. The doctor sighs, finally putting his paper down, looking, for all intents and purposes, thoroughly bored. 

“Nothing at all,” he replies simply. “On a related subject, I turned off all the surveillance cameras you left in my room. Would you like them back?”

Sherlock glares and Mycroft now looks impossibly smug. “Yes, please,” he murmurs unhappily and John nods, smiling brightly at him.

“Great. I’ll return them along with the microphones in a bit.”

Sherlock stands up and stalks out of the room, his face warm, telling himself his blush has nothing to do with the fascinating man and all to do with frustration at having his plan discovered.

How is he ever going to find out what’s really going between those two if John won’t provide him with any clues?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I want to write something silly and lighthearted (I have enough angst going on in “Hopeless”, thank you very much), but I’m not sure how well it’s working out. As I said, humor is not really my forte and I’m worried it’s coming along a little bland. So, any pointers you could give me, I’d be most thankful ;)  
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Questions answered (somewhat)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sherlock continues his quest for answers... and he's not afraid to go to any needed lenghts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! Sorry for taking so long to update but I was a little stuck with this chapter. There’s not much going on but hopefully it’s still enjoyable?

Sherlock is most definitely not sulking like a spurned teenager in his bedroom when someone knocks on his door. Still, he figures the whole lying on his stomach while holding a pillow to his face might give that impression, so he hurries to sit up and attempt to look like he was simply lying down, entertaining himself with his phone.

However, after the knocking, no one comes in and so Sherlock frowns. A beat and he realizes what’s probably going on, making him scowl at the door darkly, as if the sole force of his scowl could make the person standing at the other side leave. Another knock and he supposes no amount of glaring is going to work, so with a roll of his eyes, he stands up and throws the door open, now glaring at John without a door in between. “What?” he snaps darkly.

The doctor looks mostly amused at his tantrum and Sherlock promptly berates himself for the blush that’s quickly spreading across his cheeks, particularly when the other man smirks confidently at him. “What?” he repeats, slightly flustered and scowling once more.

“Your mother wants to know if you’d like to go shopping with us,” John tells him calmly, that infuriating smirk still firmly in place. “Apparently, both your brother and your father know better than to go shopping with her, but I’m too polite to say no.”

Sherlock opens his mouth to say something along the lines him knowing better than to go shopping with Mummy too, when something occurs him: it’s very likely Mummy will like to know more about this mysterious _friend_ of Mycroft and there’s no more skilled interrogator in the whole world than her, so…

This is his chance to get all the answers he’s been looking for!

“Sure,” he replies pleasantly, a razor sharp smile on his face now, that seems to unnerve John a little. _Good,_ Sherlock thinks triumphantly as the other man’s smirk finally falls. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”

John nods, now wary and promptly retreats downstairs. Sherlock smiles to himself, rubbing his hands together, entirely too pleased with himself.

Who would have thought that the answer to all his questions could be provided by a shopping trip with Mummy?

* * *

 

An hour later, Sherlock is rethinking the brightness of his “plan.”

He does know that Mummy’s shopping trips are interminable and _boring_ but he had thought he could endure for the sake of satisfying his curiosity. Now he’s wondering if he’ll be dead before Mummy starts interrogating John and so the whole trip will have been in vain.

John looks entirely too amused at Sherlock’s expense.

But that quickly changes when Mummy proposes they stop for lunch and starts asking the questions Sherlock- well, they aren’t exactly the questions he wants answered, but they’ll work well enough to help him figure out the nature of the relationship between John and Mycroft.

“So, John,” Mummy says, attempting to sound perfectly innocent and so failing completely. “Mycroft hasn’t told us how you two meet.”

The doctor blinks once, taking an entirely too long sip of his tea to buy himself time. When he puts his tea down, he’s biting his lip nervously. “I’m- not entirely sure I’m allowed to speak about that?”

Mummy blinks once and quickly recovers. “Oh, one of those things, huh?” she says and Sherlock scowls. He hates his brother’s secrecy in general and in this particular case it’s even more frustrating. “So, I suppose you work together?”

“In a sense,” John replies slowly, still chewing on his lip and Sherlock attempts not to get distracted by how _biteable_ those lips seem. In fact, where the hell did that thought come from? “We sort of-” he makes a face, scrunching his nose adorably. _No, wait, what_? “Yes. You could say I work for him.”

 _Interesting._ “Security?” Sherlock asks and Mummy sends a look in his direction, which he ignores. “An odd job for a former army doctor.”

John makes a face once more, before shrugging. “I can no longer operate,” he explains, “as you said, bullet to the shoulder.” He smiles self deprecatingly and something inside Sherlock clenches. “If nothing else, working for Mycroft promised to be exciting.”

“You don’t simply get a job at my brother’s,” Sherlock argues and Mummy is now openly glaring, but he doesn’t care. This is beyond suspicious. John shrugs non committedly, but before Sherlock can open his mouth again, Mummy pinches his arm, making him yelp undignifiedly.

“Leave the poor man alone, Billy,” she warns and Sherlock glares. John looks thoroughly amused, sending a quick smirk in Sherlock’s direction. “You must work all sort of crazy hours too,” Mummy says, before Sherlock can attempt to protest. “Must be hard on your family.”

John shrugs once more. “I was living with my sister when I first came back to London, but that went to hell quite quickly,” he smiles sadly. “Then I tried living with my girlfriend and we did argue a lot about my odd hours, although she… anyway, now that that blew over and I’m living at Mycroft’s-”

Wait. What?! “What?” Mummy echoes out loud, jaw hanging slack and Sherlock frowns, wondering how he missed that. That’s- that’s-

He doesn’t even know what’s the word for how _weird_ that is.

John is smiling sheepishly now, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I thought you knew. I thought he would have said-” he waves his hands vaguely. “Well. It just makes sense, you know?”

“Of course,” Mummy replies, Sherlock still too surprised to attempt to form a coherent sentence. “More efficient, isn’t it?” she says lightly, but there’s a twinkle in her eye that would unnerve any man and John is not the exception.

“Well, yes. It’s- complicated. I don’t think I’m allowed to explain how that exactly came to pass.” He bites his lip once more, looking slightly embarrassed. “But it does work. And we get along fine, so-” he gestures vaguely.

“And you said you broke up with your girlfriend?” Mummy prods and Sherlock rolls his eyes. Figures she’d care about that.

John blinks, confused by the turn of the conversation. Or maybe not as confused as unnerved. “Yes- Mary was- umm- it’s complicated,” he attempts to take another sip from his tea, but the cup has been emptied already and he eyes it morosely. “Mycroft did tell me that the next time I date someone, I should let him know first so he can do the appropriate background check.”

“I’m sure he did,” Mummy says, looking like the cat that got the cream and John chuckles nervously. Sherlock, however, is thoroughly intrigued. These are certainly interesting news, although not for the reasons Mummy is probably thinking.

Mycroft doesn’t like sharing his living space with _anyone;_ the point of his ridiculously minimalist flat in London is to discourage family visits, so why exactly would he agree to have John living with him?

What’s going on here?

Something dangerous, probably. And interesting, without doubt. Now, more than ever, he’s terribly curious.

He’ll get to the bottom of this, no matter what.

* * *

 

“And how are things with your Inspector, Sherlock?”

Apparently, Mummy has decided she has found out all she needs about her older son’s social life and has decided it’s time to interrogate Sherlock about his. Damn it all, he should have known he wouldn’t escape this trip unscratched-

“He’s not _my_ inspector,” Sherlock argues, crossing his arms and pouting like a toddler. He wishes he could escape Mummy’s interrogation, but she has chosen the perfect moment and location for it: in the car, on their way back home.

The woman is wasted as a housewife, really.

Mummy huffs. “He’s such a nice man,” she’s telling John, smiling brightly. “Perhaps a tad too old for my Sherlock, but-”

“Mummy!” Sherlock exclaims, blushing to the tip of his ears for some unknown reason. “It’s not like that,” he feels compelled to clarify, feeling John’s eyes on him. “I just occasionally do his work.”

Mummy huffs once more, but before she can press the matter, John intervenes. “Is this Detective Inspector Lestrade we’re talking about?” he asks, a sly smile on his lips.

“Why, yes!” Mummy exclaims happily. “You’ve met him?”

“Oh, yes!” John replies cheerily. “We run into him at a pub-”

“We?”

“Mycroft and I,” the doctor clarifies quickly. “He’s-”

“That can’t be true,” Sherlock interrupts sharply. “My brother wouldn’t be caught dead in one of the pubs Lestrade frequents.” He narrows his eyes suspiciously at John, but the man simply smiles.

“That might have been my fault,” John says, smiling sheepishly. “I insisted we should stop for something to eat before we- well. That’s confidential. But the point is-”

“Mycroft let you drag him into a pub?” Sherlock asks, baffled.

“Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?”

Mummy and Sherlock exchange a look, the first looking indescribably happy. “No reason,” Sherlock replies absentmindedly, starting to think there might be some merit on Mummy’s imaginations. John frowns, but promptly carries on with his tale, which Mummy’s listens to with rapt attention, all the while Sherlock attempts to make sense of today’s revelations.

It’s all very mysterious really and that’s the only reason he’s interested in his brother’s new social (and potential love) life.

It has nothing to do with how intriguing he finds this John Watson.

Nothing at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this new chapter didn’t disappoint! I’m certain there were more things that were supposed to happen, but it just didn’t work out. I don’t think it’s quite as funny (or romantically promising) as the previous one, but hopefully the next one will make up for that ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


	3. Awkward conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John & Sherlock talk and John & Mycroft argue and we get a bit of insight :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! It didn’t take me that long this time, huh?  
> Enjoy?

He had been planning on leaving before actual Christmas, not really wanting to spend an endless night listening to Mummy and Dad fuss over him and his brother, attempting to make them feel guilty about one thing or another (not visiting them often enough most likely). However, his plans have changed dramatically since his arrival.

Now he’s staying until he solves the mystery of his brother and his new “friend”.

Sherlock keeps his gaze fixed on John, who is happily eating away all the cookies Mummy made earlier. The doctor simply ignores his scrutiny, only occasionally shooting a questioning glance in his direction.

It’s been a week since he started working on this particular mystery and he’s nowhere near to solving it. Is this how Lestrade and his team feel all the time? Poor things, no wonder they ask for his help despite his rude remarks.

He taps his fingers against the table, thinking. The evidence so far is quite contradictory: while his brother and John do seem… close, somewhat, there’s something missing. He’s still convinced that despite all of Mummy’s wishful thinking, his brother is incapable of having a _romantic_ relationship and he thinks neither of them look particularly infatuated with one another, but then, Sherlock is bad at reading that sort of thing, so maybe-

“I never thought people could injure themselves thinking,” John says cheerily. “But it seems you’re about to accomplish it.”

Sherlock scowls and the doctor smiles infuriatingly at him. His stomach feels all funny while looking at that smile and Sherlock positively _loathes it._ The man has a certain charm that grows into you, no doubt, but he’s not about to get distracted from his quest by something as stupid as an _infatuation._

Mycroft chooses that moment to walk into a room and with a single look he commands John outside. Sherlock watches them through the window; John’s tense stance suggests trouble, the hand on his brother’s arm is just confusing. The fact that Mycroft doesn’t seem bothered by having someone touching him just makes it even weirder.

John relaxes eventually, his hand dropping to his side. Mycroft is smiling now and Sherlock narrows his eyes, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. When his brother actually laughs at something John says, he stands up abruptly and stalks his way to his bedroom.

This makes no sense whatsoever.

* * *

 

He spends the afternoon _not-sulking_ in his room. Mummy calls him for lunch and later for dinner, but Sherlock ignores her. He needs to think and somehow watching John and his brother interact doesn’t seem to be very conductive for that.

But then, how is he going to figure out this mystery if he doesn’t _observe_?

He wishes it wasn’t so confusing. It’s all Mycroft’s fault, really. If he wasn’t so damn secretive about everything, if he wasn’t so fond of his cloak and dagger routine…

There’s a knock on his door and he turns to glare at it. He sighs, knowing Mummy won’t be undeterred and if it has gotten into her head that he needs to talk about his _feelings…_

But he isn’t feeling anything, damn it!

“Go away,” he says, although there’s no real bite in it. Mummy means well, after all.

“I brought you tea and cookies,” John’s voice comes from the other side of the door, startling Sherlock a bit by how unexpected it is. “May I come in?”

He huffs, standing up and throwing the door open. “What?” he demands, feeling way out of his element. He doesn’t understand this John Watson and that’s simply unacceptable: people are easy, predictable. Why can't John be as perfectly dull as the rest of the world?

“You haven’t eaten anything,” John points out gently. “That’s not healthy.”

Sherlock scoffs and takes one cookie from the tray. “There, happy?”

John rolls his eyes, pushing his way into the room. Sherlock is half tempted to throw him out, but he figures it’s pretty useless, so he decides to let him win this round and goes back to sitting on his bed, while John takes a seat at his old desk.

“So, what’s bothering you?” John asks after a few minutes of silence. Sherlock glares, not wanting to admit how… frustrated he is about this whole… thing.

“What’s your relationship with my brother?” he demands when John just keeps looking at him expectantly and the doctor huffs, a soft smile on his lips that makes something in Sherlock ache oddly.

“Why do you find it so hard to believe we’re friends?”

Sherlock scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Please. Mycroft doesn’t have friends. He has co-workers, people that are scared of him, allies, enemies. Not friends.”

“What about you? Do you have any friends?”

If looks could kill, John Watson would be a very dead man. The doctor smiles once more, although this time he looks a bit sad. “I’ll take that as a no, then. May I ask why?”

“I don’t have time for such foolishness,” Sherlock says, although his tone is lacking his usual bite. He really doesn’t care he doesn’t have friends: people are so completely dull after all. But something about the way John is looking at him-

“Yes, I thought you’d say something like that,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair. “You and your brother are actually quite similar.” Oh, he’d be so very dead… “to be honest, it wasn’t an easy feat, but I figured that if we were going to spend so much time together, it would be for the best if we were in good terms. And your brother was quite reluctant at first, but in the end-” he waves a hand vaguely. “My therapist says I have trust issues. But mine are nothing compared to yours and your brother’s.”

Sherlock huffs, not looking at him. It’s true, of course, but his _trust issues_ are not in vain. “We didn’t have a very normal childhood,” he says, not exactly sure _why_ he’s telling John this. “We didn’t interact with many people outside our family. And when we did-” he makes a face, scrunching his nose a little. “People are so _boring._ ”

“Living in a world of goldfishes, yeah, I know,” John says, an amused smile on his lips and Sherlock’s own quirk upwards briefly. “And from what I’ve gathered, you didn’t shy from telling people exactly what you thought of them.”

“I hate hypocrisy.” He shrugs non committedly. “It’s not my problem people prefer _politeness_ over the truth.”

John looks at him for a beat, before shaking his head, looking thoroughly amused. “You two are really alike.” He laughs at Sherlock’s look of utter contempt, before continuing. “Although in Mycroft’s defense, he’s quite the diplomat when needed.”

Sherlock huffs, rolling his eyes. “I can be diplomatic,” he murmurs darkly and when John arches an eyebrow, he glares some more. “I can! It’s just not worth the effort, most of the time.”

John laughs and Sherlock’s stomach feels all _fluttery._ The sensation is weird and not completely welcome, but he finds himself incapable of tearing his eyes away from the laughing man, a warm feeling quickly spreading across his limbs.

Oh. This is bad. Very bad.

And yet-

* * *

 

“-completely off limits! I’m warning you Watson-”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic! I just-”

“I don’t care! You stay away from him or-!”

“Or what? What are you going to do, Mycroft?”

Sherlock is a bit- surprised to come downstairs and find his brother and _friend_ arguing loudly. Mummy and Dad went to town to finish buying the last things needed for Christmas dinner and he had actually slept late, so they probably thought they were alone enough to discuss… whatever they’re discussing.

Sherlock is terribly curious, but years of having Mummy telling him that eavesdropping when she and Dad were arguing in this same living room was _bad_ has him considering going back to his bedroom. He quickly chides himself for his childish reaction and stands rooted where he is, careful not to alert the pair of his presence.

“I’m just saying this once, Watson,” Mycroft says, his tone having drop to the one that makes world’s leaders shiver in fear. “For your own good, stay away.”

“Mycroft-”

“Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you didn’t heed my advice?”

“That’s different,” John protest darkly, his tone just as dangerous as his brother’s. “You actually know him. You can not tell me- it’s not like you need to make a bloody background check!”

“He has a questionable past-”

“Oh, really? A questionable past that has him involved-?”

“Don’t!” Mycroft hisses, “we’re not discussing that here.”

Sherlock wishes he could see what’s going on, but he can’t risk moving. So he stands very still, listening to the dense silence in the other room, some of his questions finally getting answered, but some new ones rising. Oh, if only he could get a visual- “Fine,” John relents finally, sounding frustrated. “But I still think you’re being ridiculous. I like him, I really do.”

“Off limits, John!” Mycroft exclaims and John chuckles, making the older man huff indignantly.

“Alright, alright,” the doctor agrees finally. “Off limits.”

“Good. Glad we’ve got that settled.”

There’s some shuffling in the other room and then Sherlock hears the front door opening and closing. Assuming it’s safe to move now, he peeks into the living room, only to find John sitting on the armchair, eyebrows arched. “Didn’t your parents tell you it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop?”

Sherlock huffs. “It doesn’t count if you’re yelling,” he says, dropping himself on the sofa. “It’s not like I was doing it on purpose.”

John rolls his eyes, but doesn’t comment, instead turning his attention to the morning paper. Sherlock remains where he is, watching him in silence, hundred questions in the back of his mind, but knowing it’d be useless to ask.

This whole business of his brother and John keeps getting more and more interesting.

Now, if only he could avoid getting distracted by John’s many charms-

But that’s a losing battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I think that if I really push myself, I might have this finished before actual Christmas. There’s only a couple more of chapters to go in any case, unless the idea decides to run away from me ;)  
> I’m curious, do you guys have any theories of what’s going on with John and Mycroft? This chapter was supposed to shed some light on it, but I got a bit side tracked… There’s a tiny bit more of romance than I originally intended, although I’m not completely convinced it’s very romantic.  
> If things go as I want them to, we shall have a bit of angst in the next chapter, so… be warned!  
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought?


	4. Mycroft knows better (or so he thinks)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sherlock is determined to win John over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I was planning on finishing this yesterday, but well… while I have no boss, I have a lot of actual work to do in his absence. Huh. I think I prefer it when he’s around…  
> Anyway… enjoy?

Nobody should be allowed to be this charming.

In fact, Sherlock is seriously considering having a talk with his brother about banning people from being this level of perfect, because it’s honestly not fair. Besides, with people like John running wild, without any sort of supervision, the country is likely to fall at any given moment. If the good doctor can distract even Sherlock-

Well, there’s no hope for the rest of humanity. So it’s clearly for the greater good and all that.

“Don’t,” his brother warns, not looking up from his phone and Sherlock glares.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” he protests, perhaps pouting a little, but he can’t be blamed for his childish tendencies when his brother is behaving like he did when they were children and Sherlock was supposed to _listen to him._

“Stay away from John,” Mycroft says, looking up briefly. “There’s nothing but heartbreak down that road for you.”

“Oh, really?” Sherlock challenges, not liking that despite all this time his brother can still read him perfectly. “First hand experience?” he knows it’s cheap bait, but his brother’s reaction might give him more insight-

Mycroft rolls his eyes dramatically, making a point of not answering him and going back to his phone, face blank. Sherlock huffs; that wasn’t very informative. He looks outside the window once more, where John is still helping Mummy with… something in the garden (he wasn’t paying attention when she asked for help the first time). He tries to keep himself from sighing dreamingly like a heroine from a cheap romance novel, but the man is really too handsome for his own good.

“I thought he was perfectly average,” Mycroft points out, still not looking up and making Sherlock groan.

“I never said that out loud!”

“Of course you didn’t, brother mine,” Mycroft says, a hint of a smile on his lips. “But then, I taught you everything you know.”

“You did not,” Sherlock argues, most definitely _not_ pouting like an annoyed toddler. Mycroft’s smirks properly then, turning to look at him, his amused look quickly morphing to one of concern.

“I’m serious, Sherlock,” his brother says then, his tone indeed deadly serious. “Don’t. It won’t end well.”

The younger man doesn’t dignify such silly statement with an answer, instead choosing to stand up and go back to his bedroom, not stomping like a child throwing a tantrum and certainly not sulking.

What does Mycroft know, anyway?

* * *

 

The day before Christmas, Sherlock is feeling… troubled. On one hand, there’’s just one more day before he goes back to London, away from Mummy and all her useless fussing. On the other hand, there’s just one more day before he goes back to London, where his brother and _friend_ live too, but it’s not like Sherlock is going to put himself through the trouble of visiting Mycroft for the sake of seeing John.

Except-

But no. He might be… _infatuated_ but he’s not about to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him behaving like a lost puppy, trailing pathetically after the first person to show him kindness. Nevermind that the man is gorgeous and so very nice to Sherlock, not to mention intelligent enough to actually be worth talking to and that he finds his deductions _fantastic_ instead of bothersome.

If only he could… _lure_ John away from Mycroft. The man is an adrenaline junkie obviously and so working as his brother’s _security_ might give him enough of a thrill to make up for the bore of being around Mycroft, but Sherlock could offer him so much more. Of course Lestrade might oppose to the idea of them chasing after criminals and getting in all sort of dangerous situations, but well… as long as the case gets solved, Sherlock figures it’ll be fine.

So really, it’s just a matter of how bringing up the subject.

Mycroft will be angry, no doubt, but that’s an added bonus, really.

Unfortunately, as if having read his intentions (and knowing his brother, he probably did), Mycroft takes to hoarding all of John’s time. It’s nearly impossible to catch the man on his own and every time he somehow manages, his brother appears out of thin air, demanding to talk to John _in private._ It’s annoying to say at least and it’s even more annoying that John doesn’t seem to mind.

Sherlock is most definitely not sulking, but still- he’s annoyed.

Desperate for some kind of interaction (and he does notice he’s acting a bit like a creepy stalker, but he believes he’s perfectly justified) he decides to hide in John’s closet. Since Mycroft and him went out for a stroll (suspicious, but by now he’s almost 80% convinced there’s nothing romantic going on between them), his brother won’t notice his absence right away and that might buy him enough time to have a quick chat with John.

That is, of course, if John goes into his room before getting ready for dinner and he thinks it’s a likely possibility, so…

The door to the bedroom opens and Sherlock walks out of his hiding place, ready to start reciting the speech he prepared with all the reasons why John should go back to London with him and not with Mycroft, when he realizes that John is indeed in the bedroom… but he’s not alone.

“Sherlock?” the doctor questions, looking a bit surprised. Behind him, Mycroft looks ready to murder someone (his annoying little brother most likely)

Sherlock glares back at his brother, before huffing dramatically and leaving the room, perfectly aware of the pair of eyes following him.

That didn’t work out as he hoped.

Just one more day to go. Time to step up his game.

* * *

 

On Christmas morning, Sherlock sits at the kitchen, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, lost deep in thought. He needs a plan and he needs it soon, if he doesn’t want to miss his chance to snatch John away from his brother’s clutches. It’s for the doctor’s own good, really. He’ll be better off with him.

Mycroft probably knows that too and that’s why he’s so carefully keeping them apart.

But he’s smarter than his brother (nevermind what the pompous jerk thinks) and he’ll outsmart him. There’s much at stake for him not to, really.

John choses that precise instant to walk into the kitchen, looking still sleepy, hair mussed up, all soft edges. He looks _adorable_ and Sherlock’s heart skips a beat. Good Lord, this is ridiculous. He’s a grown man, not a teen with his first crush. And yet-

“Good morning,” John greets, with a small yawn. Instead of answering, Sherlock closes the distance between them in a couple of strides, so they’re practically chest to chest. John looks up at him, still sleepy and so soft and Sherlock wants- “Something wrong?” the doctor asks confusedly.

“Come back to London with me,” Sherlock says, the words leaving his lips before he can think them through. This wasn’t supposed to go like this, dammit, he had a whole speech prepared! He was supposed to-

John is smiling softly at him, a wistful look in his eyes. Sherlock gulps, suddenly realizing how close they are and that somehow becomes more evident when John stands on the tip of his toes to place a kiss against his lips. The contact is brief and completely chaste, and yet- “What-?”

“Mistletoe,” John replies, pointing at the greenery hanging over them. Sherlock frowns at it, confused at what exactly this all means. “And I wanted to,” John adds after a beat, still smiling. “Besides, you’ve just sort of asked me out, so-”

He didn’t. “I was thinking more along the lines of moving in together,” he says without thinking and for a man that prides himself on being logical, Sherlock is well aware his actions make no sense whatsoever and yet he doesn’t care; they’ve known each other for less than a month and yet-

“Sherlock, I can’t-”

But that’s not the answer he wants and so Sherlock decides that if all is fair in love and war, he’s most definitely willing to use whatever ammunition at his disposition to win this particular battle against his brother and so he leans down to kiss the wrong answer away from John’s lips.

This second kiss is decidedly less chaste and when John moans softly, Sherlock wraps his arms around the smaller man’s waist, bringing their bodies as closely together as possible. The sensation is heavenly and he thinks there’s no way he’ll ever get enough of it. Oh god, he hopes he’ll manage to convince John to go with him, because he has no idea what he’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Sherlock!” Mummy’s scandalized cry makes them break apart as quickly as if they’ve been burned. Mummy is standing at the living room, in perfect view of them in the kitchen, but she’s not alone. Mycroft is standing right next to her, looking more frustrated than anything, but of course Mummy fails to notice her oldest son isn’t exactly heartbroken.

“Mummy-”

“Mrs. Holmes-”

“Watson, a word. Now.” Mycroft speaks over them, his voice clear and commanding. John spares a quick look in Sherlock’s direction, hesitating for beat and Mycroft lets out an annoyed huff. “Now, Watson,” he repeats darkly and John sighs, following the older Holmes outside.

“Oh, Sherlock,” Mummy begins and Sherlock attempts to get past her, but she stubbornly steps into his path, glaring darkly. He sighs, crossing his arms in front of his chest and spying through the window John and Mycroft arguing while trying to keep their tone down despite both being very obviously angry.

“Sherlock, what were you thinking? He’s your brother! And while I’ve always- I’ve never approved of this silly rivalry of yours and this is frankly-”

Outside, Mycroft has answered a call on his phone and now he and John are contenting themselves with glaring at each other heatedly. Mummy is still going on about how an awful brother he’s being, but Sherlock can’t bring himself to care, growing more and more annoyed with each passing second.

“Oh mother, can’t you see Mycroft doesn’t give a damn? He’s annoyed I’m attempting to steal his- _whatever,_ but he’s not heartbroken over it!”

Before Mummy can continue with her reprimand, the door opens once more and Mycroft steps in, closely followed by John, who hurries upstairs without even sparing a glance in Sherlock’s direction. The younger man’s heart clenches painfully in his chest, but he quickly tells himself not to focus on that. What matters right now-

“We’re leaving,” Mycroft announces and Mummy glares murderously at Sherlock, before turning to him.

“Oh darling, please don’t. I’m sure your brother-”

“It’s not that,” Mycroft interrupts her and that’s when Sherlock notices the tense line of his back and the way he keeps clenching his jaw. “We really must go.”

John is back just then, carrying a couple of suitcases with him. How he managed to pack so quickly is a bit surprising, but Sherlock figures he has bigger concerns right now. “Wait, you can’t leave,” he says, aware of how his voice shakes and _hating_ it, but-

“I’m sorry,” John murmurs, taking a step towards him before seemingly thinking better of it. “I’m really sorry, but I must go-”

Mycroft sighs, rubbing his temples tiredly. “I told you it was a bad idea,” he says out loud to no one is particular and both John and Sherlock flinch. “Come on, Watson. We’re leaving.”

It’s all happening too fast and Sherlock’s head is spinning. John can’t leave, not now, not when-

“Goodbye,” John says mournfully. “Sorry about everything. Good day.”

And with that he’s out of the door and apparently out of Sherlock life, so fast Sherlock is having trouble wrapping his head around it. It can’t end like this, it just can’t. He needs- he doesn’t understand-

“Oh, darling,” Mummy murmurs softly, obviously still frustrated at what happened and blaming Sherlock for it, but motherly concern wins over her anger and so she wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a comforting hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “It’ll be fine. We’ll- we’ll figure out this mess.”

Sherlock closes his eyes. How he wishes he could believe his mother’s words.

But he thinks there’s no solution to this particular problem.

Mostly because he doesn’t even know what the problem _is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. That last part was supposed to be… different, I guess. A bit more dramatic, I think. It involved a lot of yelling, as far as I remember… but when I wrote it of course it went it whatever direction it wanted ;)  
> I’m not sure if it all makes sense? Was it a bit… abrupt? Does the last part feels a bit out of nowhere? I worry endlessly about characterisation and I’m not sure about the consistency of what we saw at the beginning and what’s happening here.  
> Well, anyway. As I said, there’s a bit of angst here (not proper angst, I don’t think) but the next chapter should put a stop to all this mysterious nonsense and everyone should be happy. I think. Huh.  
> Oh well, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


	5. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally get some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! The last one, too! More on the dramatic side, to be honest, but well… we’ll get the happy ending and the answers we were missing ;)  
> Enjoy?

Christmas Dinner is the most awkward to date.

Not even when Sherlock was freshly out of rehab the first time around did his parents acted so- weird. Like they’re not quite sure what to do with him, how to address him or even if they should be talking to him. Sherlock never thought the day would come when he had to admit he even missed Mummy’s fussing over him and his brother.

He packs his bags that same night, determined to go back to London and forget all about this wretched affair. A part of him had wanted to run after John and demand an explanation, but the most logical side of him had argued it was a lost battle. Whatever John’s reasons for his abrupt departure were, they didn’t matter anymore. His choice had been made and Sherlock is not about to beg for something, no matter how much he wants it.

He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling and hoping for sleep to take him, although he has no delusions he’ll get any peaceful sleep tonight. He’s always had trouble sleeping, actually, but with what has just happened- god, just thinking about it-

In the morning, he’ll go back to his flat and forget this ever happened. He’ll avoid Mycroft like the plague (not a difficult feat, considering he does it already), won’t answer any of Mummy’s calls (no need for more awkwardness, really) and he’ll most definitely won’t think ever again of John Watson.

He wishes he could simply delete the man, but that task seems out of his abilities.

But he’ll survive.

He always does.

* * *

 

A traitorous, ridiculous part of him keeps on hoping John will show up at his flat at some point, to apologize and explain. Whenever the bell rings, his treacherous heart skips a beat, disappointment sitting heavy on his chest whenever the one ringing turns to be a client with a boring case. He wishes for a distraction, but even the criminal world seems to be on vacation.

By New Year he’s practically pulling his hair off. Lestrade has forbidden him from getting anywhere close to the Yard, claiming he’s been insufferable and that he won’t stand for Sherlock terrorizing his subordinates just _because_ and even sweet and reliable Molly has became fed up with him, banning him from the morgue _until he's done with behaving like an annoyed toddler._

Sherlock sighs, resting his head against the back of the sofa, thinking. There’s, of course, one thing that could make him forget momentarily his heartbreak, but if he starts doing drugs again, Mycroft will decide it’s time to start having him followed _again_ and he really wants nothing to do with his brother.

As he ponders his options, he’s barely aware of his phone ringing. Since the damn thing won’t stop, he finally picks it up, glaring annoyedly at nothing in particular. “Yes?” he snaps, feeling more than a tad frustrated with everything.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” Sherlock grunts and the voice on the other side carries on. “I’m Dr. Stanford, from St. Bartholomew's Hospital. I’m calling about your brother, Mr. Mycroft Holmes.”

Sherlock hums, not particularly interested. Mycroft being on the hospital is not something terribly worrisome, or at least he doesn’t think so. If it was, it wouldn’t be a doctor the one calling him, but Mycroft’s PA. The doctor seems to hesitate, apparently unnerved by the lack of _appropriate_ reaction. “Your brother has been shot, Mr. Holmes. It was a minor injury, actually-”

“Good,” Sherlock says, relieved despite himself. He might have his issues with his brother, but he does care for him, even if he doesn’t want to. “Is that all?”

The doctor splutters and Sherlock rolls his eyes. People are so _weird_ sometimes. “No, not really. You can visit-”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

A sigh. “There’s another thing your brother said I should mention to you and while I- we’re not supposed to tell anyone other than direct family members about patients’ state, but your brother insisted and he’s quite-” a pause and Sherlock rolls his eyes. Won’t he just get to the damn point? “Anyway. He said I should let you know that Dr. Watson has also been shot and-”

Sherlock’s heart stops in his chest, suddenly feeling sick. “What- how- is he alright?”

Dr. Stanford hesitates once more and Sherlock springs out of his seat, grabbing his coat and exiting the flat without really noticing what he’s doing. “He’s stable now, although he was badly hurt,” the doctor is saying. “He was shot on the chest, the bullet barely missed his heart and we-”

“I’m on my way,” Sherlock announces as the stops a cab. The doctor attempts to say something then, but Sherlock has already hung up, only one thought occupying his mind:

He needs to see John.

* * *

 

Bullying his way into John’s room turns out to be a little more complicated than Sherlock thought, but eventually his brother appears out of thin air (quite conveniently and Sherlock must admit that he does have his uses, when he’s not determined to annoy him) and he’s the one to get them access to John’s room. Sherlock would have prefered to be on his own, but he supposes making his brother mad right now could be quite counterproductive.

John is asleep, completely oblivious to his concerned visitors. And Mycroft does look concerned, even if most people wouldn’t notice. Sherlock attempts not to, but seeing his brother worried about someone else is quite unusual and so he can’t tear his eyes apart.

“He’s out of danger now,” Mycroft informs him, leaning back on his seat and flinching a bit as his injured shoulder makes contact with the too hard surface. “The doctor thinks he should be ready to leave in a couple of days.”

Sherlock doesn’t answer, eyes fixed firmly on the sleeping figure. Mycroft sighs once more, before turning to stare at nothing in particular, apparently lost in his own thoughts. “When he recovers- you might want to repeat your offer.”

Sherlock arches an eyebrow and Mycroft shrugs non committedly. “I actually wanted to send him to watch over you when he started working for me, but between his own ideas of what’s _morally wrong_ and the little… issue with the girlfriend-”

“Ex-girlfriend,” John murmurs sleepily, peering at them through half closed eyelids. “I mean, the relationship was quite done for when she attempted to kill my boss, but now that she has put a bullet through me, I’m guessing getting back together is completely out of the question.”

Sherlock frowns, piecing these new bits of information together, finally solving the puzzle of the association between his brother and John Watson. Mycroft smiles indulgently, standing up with yet another flinch that makes Sherlock feel bad for him, if only momentarily.

“I’ll leave you alone, then,” he says, patting the younger Holmes’ shoulder awkwardly. “You’ve got much to discuss, yes?” and without waiting for the answer he’s out of the room, absentmindedly rubbing his injured shoulder, probably doing himself no favours but Sherlock has bigger concerns.

“Your ex-girlfriend wanted to kill my brother,” Sherlock says right away and John sighs dramatically.

“Your manners haven’t improved, I see.” John attempts to sit up and Sherlock decides to help after watching him struggling for a bit. “If you must know- yes. I met Mary shortly after I started working for Mycroft. In retrospective, everything was timed too perfectly and I should have noticed there was something not quite right with that, but-” he shrugs, smiling self deprecatingly. “I was lonely.”

Sherlock nods, thoughtfully. “Loneliness is a bad advisor,” he comments after a while. “It’s easy to convince oneself that anyone showing you kindness is the right one for you.”

John sighs, looking sad. “I know I shouldn’t have left like that but- Mycroft received a call letting him know Mary had escaped custody and well… it wasn’t safe to stay with your parents.”

He does understand, but it doesn’t mean he wasn’t hurt by John’s cold goodbye. Still- “I suppose we could start over,” he comments off handedly, trying not to look too eager. “Now that you’re no longer working for my brother-”

“What?”

“You’ve just been shot, Dr. Watson,” Sherlock replies calmly, although he’s a nervous wreck in the inside. If John says no once more- “You can not continue working as my brother’s security, at least not right now and the British Government is not eager to keep incapacitated members in their payroll.”

John makes a face, but doesn’t comment, gesturing for him to carry on. “So, now that you're jobless and homeless, you might want to reconsider my offer of moving in with me.”

“Wow. You really know how to woo a guy, don’t you? A real casanova.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “It’s a simple question, John, will you move in with me or not?”

John seems to consider this for a beat. “You know it’s crazy, don’t you? I mean, we barely know each other-”

“I assure you I’m not hired assassin. I’ve got no ulterior motives other than to get you in bed.”

John’s eyes are open very wide and Sherlock is regretting his false bravado. But he’s just too bad at this whole flirting-thing and so he thought a direct approach might be for the best.

Judging by John’s smug smile, he thinks he’s onto something.

“Is that so?” John says, having recovered from his surprise. He’s smiling predatorily now and Sherlock can feel warmth quickly spreading all over his body. “Well, provided your brother approves, I’m in.”

“Why does Mycroft have anything to do with you moving in with me? It’s none of his business.”

John rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Well, evidence shows that neither of you know how to keep your noses out of the other’s business,” Sherlock might blush a bit at this, but refuses to acknowledge it. “Besides, after our… departure from your parents home he said that once we were out of this whole mess, I should make up to you asap or no one, not even you, would be able to find my body. So I’m guessing… he’s a bit protective of you.”

Sherlock pouts. “I’m not a child,” he murmurs, annoyed. “I don’t need my big brother watching over me.”

John chuckles, patting the space next to him on the bed. “Well, in any case… I think you should come here so I can start making it up to you.”

Sherlock’s smile is bright as the sun. Things worked out well enough, he supposes.

And while the mystery of his brother and his new _friend_ is solved, it seems to him that the mystery that John Watson is, is still far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> It seems to me that the last part might look a little rushed, with not that much of an explanation but well… it does makes sense, yes?  
> Thanks for reading! It’s been a joy to work on this fic and to get such a positive response to it! I might add an epilogue at some point, but I’m not making any promises ;)  
> Again, thanks for reading and for the support!

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out! Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Домой на Рождество](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182872) by [MrsWho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsWho/pseuds/MrsWho)




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